


Me, Myself (I'd Rather Be Alone Again)

by emmaliza



Category: Take That (Band)
Genre: 90s fic, Anal Sex, Angst and Porn, Denial, Dom/sub Undertones, Lack of Communication, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Porn with Feelings, Repression, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 08:29:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17117939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmaliza/pseuds/emmaliza
Summary: Gary's never had an out of body experience, but it must feel something like this.Gary can't resist temptation, and he blames Robbie.





	Me, Myself (I'd Rather Be Alone Again)

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from "Do What You Like."

Gary's never had an out of body experience, but it must feel something like this.

At the moment though, Gary feels painfully within his own body, the cheap, rough cotton sheets rubbing against his naked torso and making his nipples chafe, the gel in his hair mixing with sweat and plastering the bleached locks to his forehead, the chemical smell flooding his nose and making him wonder just how many people have fucked on this mattress before him, because it doesn't seem like the sort of establishment above sheltering those who charge by the hour, and of course the pain, the dull throbbing pain that rings out after every thrust that sends tremors of pleasure through him, the pain that will thicken into an agonizing ache tomorrow morning, an ache that will make his dancing even worse than usual, that will make him scowl at Robbie for doing it to him, and at himself for letting it happen.

Robbie's got both hands in his hair, holding him tight, keeping his head still while his body rocks with the force of every strike – and whiplash, great, that's just what he needs. Gary still moans desperately as he grinds against the covers, spreading his legs wider and keening to the touch, absolutely gagging for it and feeling utterly incapable of controlling himself.

That's what makes it feel like an out of body experience, the part of him that can see the way he's acting, and keeps shouting: _what are you doing? You're going to destroy yourself!_

Robbie slams his face back down into the duvet, and Gary gasps, only pushing his arse further up in response. Rob's cock drives into him deeper and his eyes roll back in his head. “Oh, you like that you fucking slut?” Robbie growls at him, and Gary's not sure whether to moan or laugh. The other boys are always making fun of him for being such a prude, but if they knew...

Gary whimpers and clenches around Rob's cock at that thought. _Howard will be back soon. We don't have long._ Howard will tease him, but he won't really question the smell of sex in the room – if he actually walks in on them shagging, however, that's another matter entirely. “Fuck,” Rob spits at the added friction, quickening his pace until his balls slap obscenely against Gary's arse, and Gary only moans louder at that, at Robbie's desperate, rough thrusts that always manage to hit him _just right_. Robbie's good at this. Experienced. Robbie's barely even fucking legal, and that thought is humiliating, when Gary realises just how overwhelmed the other boy makes him feel.

It's not that Gary was a virgin before Rob came along, of course not, but he's not experienced either. He probably could have gotten a lot more than he ever has, but well... it wasn't his focus. His career – his future career – always came first. He didn't even know he liked blokes until he joined this fucking band.

He bites the sheets to keep from moaning too loudly while Robbie grabs his hips and holds them still. Strong fingers dig into his flesh and Gary thinks: _he'll leave bruises._ He knows he can't even begin to protest though, so he just hopes he can get away with not taking his top off for a few days. It's too good; Robbie buries himself whole on every thrust, and it brings tears to Gary's eyes, part from pleasure, part from pain, and part from something else entirely.

He cries out, his cock wet and leaking into the sheets. Rob's not touched it, but Gary has uncomfortably realised, he doesn't need to. This is enough for him. Fuck, what is _wrong_ with him?

The thought makes him frown, somewhere far away from what his body's being put through. It's not that he actually thinks there's something wrong with him for enjoying this. It's not like _that_. He wouldn't have signed up with Nigel, wouldn't have joined this band, wouldn't spend so much of his life in gay clubs if he thought like that.

It's just, it's not _wrong_ , but it is damned inconvenient. Even Elton John himself almost destroyed his career when he came out, and while Gary would like to think society's progressed in twenty years, he's not sure it has _that_ much. They're meant to be teen idols for god's sakes, sexual fantasies for young girls to project onto, like the New Kids, how could one of them possibly like fucking men? If anyone ever found out, it would destroy him. Everything Gary's ever worked for, ever dreamed of, poof, gone. And is he really such a fucking slut he'd risk it just for... this?

Rob's fingers dig into his skin once more, almost drawing blood, and Gary moans, wiggling his hips to match the rhythm. Clearly he is, because why else would he be here?

He whimpers in need as Rob's thrusts hit that most sensitive spot inside him, but erratically, while he groans in exertion – he must be getting close. It never really takes that long, because they're both just kids, really.

The chemical smell strikes Gary again and makes him gasp. He hates that this makes it better, how dirty the hotel is. He hates that the sex is always better the worse the place they're doing it in is. He hates that he gets off on that.

Then again, maybe it's for the best. Maybe, if they ever actually break through and have a hit and can afford decent hotel rooms, he'll stop wanting it entirely and then his career won't be ruined just because he's fucking whore.

He bites his lip as he feels his climax creeping up on him in time with Robbie's, because of course it does, it always does. It's only Robbie who does this to him, you know. The other boys are handsome, Gary's not saying he'd kick any of them out of bed if they offered (and he knew, absolutely, for certain, that no-one would ever know) – but only Robbie makes him crave it, makes him want to bend over the bed and beg. Robbie, wild, cheeky, dangerous Robbie; he doesn't even really know if Robbie _likes_ him, sometimes, but he does know that Rob only has to give him that look and Gary will be wherever he wants, doing whatever he wants.

Gary hates that too.

“Fuck, Gaz, I'm – I'm close,” Rob whispers, and he leans down to tease Gary's earlobe between his teeth. Gary moans again, his cock spasming at the sensation. Rob's picked up on his stupid bloody ear fetish – of course he has, you'd have to be blind not to. Which Rob isn't. Still. _Damn him_.

It's not fair, but part of him blames Robbie for all this. After all, he worked with men doing the Northern club circuit for years, and he never wanted to fuck any of them. Sometimes he thinks his other bandmates are sexy, but it's an idle thought, not an obsession. And after all, they may not be properly famous yet, but they've acquired themselves a fair brigade of groupies, so it's not like Gary's missing the chance to get laid – he knows Rob's already taken advantage, for one. He's pretty sure he does like girls, even if maybe he likes boys as well. He doesn't have any need to do this, and he has so many reasons not to.

But Rob, Rob always lures him back.

Gary rubs more desperately against the sheets, moaning in need and despair. _No. No, it's not Rob,_ he tells himself. It's the stress, he thinks. Because they haven't broken through yet, because he keeps trying and trying to write that perfect song that will make Take That everything it needs to be, everything _he_ needs it to be, and it never works. It's the stress, that's all. He wants someone else to be in charge for bit. Once they manage that, Gary will relax, and he'll be able to break it off, he won't need this so much.

(Gary doesn't know who he's fooling.)

Robbie thrusts desperately until all of a sudden he's gone, and Gary lets out a choked sob at the loss. “Gaz, fuck, I–” there's the dull thud of a condom being discarded, and then Gary feels Rob's come – hot, thick and sticky – spill all over his back, marking him. He cries out as he thrusts into the mattress, and then his orgasm hits him. If Rob says anything else, he doesn't hear it.

Gary is shuddering and whimpering as he comes down, the white from behind his eyes taking a fair few seconds to clear. In the moment, he doesn't worry anymore. All those thoughts about what this would do to him if anyone knew – it just doesn't come up.

Behind him, Rob pants, loudly, and soon Gary feels his warm body embrace him from behind. “Hey,” Rob whispers, teasing his ear with his teeth again, cocky as ever. “So, how was that?”

Gary stiffens. _Brilliant. Incredible. Mindblowing._ But he can't say any of those things, and Robbie knows it. Already, he's freezing up. “You should go,” he says with an awkward cough, “Howard will be..”

“...Right.” Gary refuses to register any disappointment in Robbie's voice. Rob has asked him before why they don't room together more often, if it would make this a lot easier, but that's just the point. Gary doesn't want to make this easier. He wants to keep himself out of the reach of temptation as much as possible.

He doesn't tell Rob that though, instead hiding behind his friendship with Howard – and the fact both he and Mark would get suspicious.

Rob sighs and gets up off the bed, reaching for the clothing thrown away haphazardly. Slowly, Gary sits up, wincing at the pain that floods his nerves. Fuck, it _hurts_. It's not that Gary ever forgets that it's going to hurt after, but somehow he always forgets just how much.

His whole body drips with sweat and his back is covered in come and he feels disgusting; he needs a shower, badly. Rob isn't looking at him, is hurriedly pulling on his jeans, and Gary is relieved. The sooner Rob goes the less he'll be tempted to invite him back for more.

Still, the longer Rob avoids his eye, the more Gary frowns. Is he upset about something? Why should he be? He's got what he wants, hasn't he?

After all, Rob's still a teenager, and sex is what every teenager wants, isn't it? (Alright, Gary was never a particularly sex-obsessed teenager, but he thinks he's the exception that proves the rule). He cannot think that Rob could possibly want anything else. If Rob _does_ want something else, then surely Gary owes him something. And he can't handle that. But if he's already given Robbie everything he wants, well then, that's that, isn't it?

Besides, Rob's got more girls after him than any of them besides Mark – Rob's cool, funny, and eminently fuckable. Gary's an awkward music nerd, and maybe getting a bit on the pudgy side. What could Rob possibly want from him, other than he lets Rob fuck him harder than anyone else would?

Most people are smarter than him, turns out.

“Gaz?” Rob is dressed now, and he makes Gary jump by actually saying something. That doesn't happen often.

He swallows hard, meets Rob's eye. Those big green eyes; fuck, they're too honest for Rob's own good. Gary's pulse quickens. “What is it, mate?” he asks, trying to be casual, while on the inside he begs:

_Please, don't say anything._

Rob clearly can read the look on his face, and after a second, sighs in defeat. “Nothing,” he mutters. “See ya.” And when he goes, the door slams behind him.

Gary closes his eyes. He feels awful, but he doesn't want to admit it. He needs a shower, but he's exhausted. He crawls between the covers, stinking of Rob, staining them more than he has already. He closes his eyes and tries to sleep, to escape his body, for real this time.

 


End file.
